


Paradise Gained

by ProfessorFlimflam



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F, Holidays, Thailand, Tropical island paradise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2019-10-01 23:08:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17253125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProfessorFlimflam/pseuds/ProfessorFlimflam
Summary: The luxury holiday Serena has booked for herself turns out to have been a scam, and now she is stranded on a beautiful tropical island over the Christmas and New Year holiday - not the worst fate in the world - but without accommodation. The only place she can find to stay is run by - well, who do you think?!Can the loss of her luxury accommodation be compensated for by other pleasures?





	1. Paradise Postponed

**Author's Note:**

> Guess where I am? ;-)

“You can’t be full - I booked a villa online only two days ago!”

The woman at the reception of Koh Ngam Villas was absolutely _furious_ , and not without reason. The villas were beautiful: large hardwood cabins with grass-thatched roofs, bamboo-floored verandas, perfect white linens and artfully draped mosquito nets, and best of all - the thing that had made her select this resort - each cabin had its own private pool. It was exactly the tropical paradise she had been hoping for, blended with just the right note of sophistication and civilisation. Perfect - but for the small fact of there being no room at the inn, despite her booking.

“Check again - it must be there. You’re probably spelling my name wrong: it’s Campbell with a p. Look - I’ve got the booking email here,” she said, brandishing her phone at the poor hapless receptionist. With a bow and a murmur, he took the phone and peered at the screen, then made a sound of dismay.

“Ma’am, sorry ma’am, but is not real - is not our website. Is fake. We see five like this already this week - is a scam.” He handed her phone back to her with another bow and an apologetic look.

“A scam? But I’ve paid for a room here! Ten nights, full board, private pool - it says so right here!” And she jabbed at her screen again.

He sighed. “I understand, ma’am, but is fake. We have reported to the police, but it takes time to stop website.” He spread his hands in the universal gesture that said _I’m sorry, it’s bad luck, but what can I do?_ “You sit, have coffee, have ice tea, I find accommodation for you. But ma’am, is very busy now, high season, not many rooms. Maybe you want to go back to Bangkok?”

Serena Campbell looked for a moment as though she were going to start up again and insist on turfing some poor souls out of their villa, but then she seemed to deflate.

“Well, this Christmas must be cursed - or I am. What the hell, see what you can find - thank you. I'd really like to stay on Koh Ngam if I can - it looks like such a beautiful island. I do realise it’s not your fault - it’s very kind of you to look.”

She took a seat in the open air restaurant area, under the cover of a grand canopy, and gratefully accepted an iced coffee. She was vaguely aware of a constant murmur from the desk as the receptionist telephoned what must have been every hotel and resort on the island, but it faded compared to the clamour of her own thoughts as they pressed through the fog of the seventeen hour journey she had taken to get here. She supposed that really, it was a miracle that things had gone as well as they had so far, given the rush there had been to book and pack for this trip. She had expected to be spending Christmas and New Year at home, in her own house, with her daughter Elinor, home from university. But just as Elinor had cancelled their holiday to the Amalfi Coast a year or so earlier, now she had booked a holiday with her friends - island hopping in the Aegean, evidently a much more enticing prospect than spending two whole weeks out of fifty two with the woman who bore her and brought her up pretty much single handed.

Once her mood had cycled through disappointment, rage, self pity and the good old fashioned blues, Serena had given herself a little shake, and the next time she spoke to Elinor, she blithely told her daughter that it was a shame she had chosen to go with her friends, as Serena had been planning to whisk her away to a tropical island paradise in the Andaman Sea - ah well, she would simply have to go on her own. Despite the predictable protestations, she insisted brightly that Elinor simply _must_ go and have fun with her friends - it wouldn’t do to _let them down_ , now, would it? And if she had delivered that last sentiment a little too vehemently, it wouldn’t hurt Elinor to know that she had let her mother down, and missed out on the trip of a lifetime by doing so.

Of course, the trip to Thailand had been quite fictitious, but as soon as she had put the phone down with an uneasy combination of triumph and shame, she thought, _Well, why not? Why shouldn’t I go and find a little bit of paradise?_ She had booked the time off work, after all - she might as well make good use of it. She had switched on her laptop, done a quick search, and impulsively booked the most luxurious trip she could afford. With less than twenty four hours to prepare, she had packed her suitcases, paid over the odds for a last minute place at the Cattery for Horace, and arranged for a neighbour to pop in and water the houseplants while she was away. Then, by way of trains, planes, automobiles, ferries and tuktuks, she had arrived in paradise - only to find it barred, not by angels with flaming swords, but by a polite receptionist called Jeng, who was currently doing his best to save her holiday.

Well, she might as well use the time profitably. She emailed her credit card company to explain what had happened, and sent another message to her travel insurers - hopefully one way or another she would be able to recoup the money she had unwittingly given to crooks. That done, she took out her book, but as soon as she had found her page, Jeng was at her table with another little bow - she would have to get used to that - explaining that he had found a room for her, very close to the beach, beautiful views, _all very nice, ma’am_ \- and that unfortunately the resort’s jeep was out at the moment, but that he could call a taxi for her if she liked?

She liked, on the whole, and he took her suitcases and carried them back to the top of the driveway, giving her a parasol to keep the sun off her head. She was glad of the shade, and used her book to fan herself against the humidity. Only a minute or two later, her taxi arrived - but it was like no taxi she had ever seen before. It was a motorbike with a glorified sidecar: or rather, what looked like a small trailer into which padded seats had been bolted, and a canopy above that made her think of the _Surrey With Fringe On Top_ from her old school’s production of _Oklahoma!_ some forty years ago. Too tired and browbeaten by events to argue, Serena watched helplessly as Jeng loaded her cases onto he trailer, then gave her a hand up.

“You go from Koh Ngam Villas to Koh Ngam Valley,” he said with a big smile. “When you get to the resort, you look for Bernie Wolfe - tall, long blond hair like this,” he said, waving his hands wildly about his head. Serena couldn’t think what he meant for a moment, then the image snapped into her mind of a tall, possibly bronzed beach bum with sun bleached locks wet and curly from the sea. Quite possibly in a tightly fitting wetsuit… or no, perhaps just in board shorts, displaying long legs and a muscled torso. Perhaps things were beginning in to look up at last?

“Thank you, Jeng,” she said with a bow of her own. “Thank you very much, you’ve been very kind. Right then - drive on! Let’s go and meet the tall, blond and rather promising Bernie Wolfe!”


	2. Paradise Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serena sees something of the island as the villa’s driver takes her to her replacement accommodation, but there is a nasty shock waiting for her on arrival - and one hell of a surprise awaits her in the person of the resort’s owner.

The driveway from the villas up to the main road - actually the island’s only real road - felt even bumpier going up than it had seemed coming down. The resort’s four wheel drive coped admirable, but it was an ancient beast without the benefit of modern suspension, and its leaf springs seemed to absorb little of the shock from the boulders and ruts that characterised the dirt track.

“We build new road soon!” Saloh the driver called back cheerfully, but Serena was too busy clinging on to the roll cage to respond. She felt as though she might be flung from the vehicle at any moment, though in fact there was no danger of any such thing.

“Should have worn a sports bra,” she grumbled under her breath, glad that there was no-one to witness this indignity.

Eventually they reached the road, and Saloh accelerated so sharply that Serena felt a great jolt in her shoulders where she was still grasping the roll cage too tightly. They drove for five or ten minutes along the relatively well surfaced road, through tall trees on either side of the road. Serena saw that each tree had a black metal cup tied to it, and a diagonal strip of bark cut away. A small spout was hammered into each tree trunk between the wounded bark and the cup, and a milky white substance dripped slowly into the cups.

Saloh turned his head, gesticulating wildly at the trees. “Rubber!” He cried, but Serena had worked this much out for herself. She had known that rubber came from trees, of course, but it had never occurred to her before just how about intensive the operation must be: thousand of trees, each with it’s own little cup of slowly solidifying rubber, and no means of collecting them mechanically. Each cup was perhaps the size of a grapefruit, and in some stretches, several solid lumps of rubber waiting for collection at the foot of each tree. Every quarter of a mile or so, she saw old fashioned mangles, of all things, deep within the plantation, and wondered for a wild moment why the islanders carried their laundry all the way into the rubber plantation to dry it. When they passed a house a little further along the road, she saw several flabby, off-white somethings about the size of a bath mat, and she realised that this must be the initial stage of processing the raw product. Presumably it was easier to bundle these sheets up for transport to wherever they went next.

Her detective work was interrupted by the sight of something dashing across the road, low to the ground. It was gone almost before she had registered it, and she leaned forward and asked incredulously, “Was that a _monkey?_ ”

Saloh nodded with a frown on his face. “Yes, yes,” he nodded. “Very many monkey, very bad. The steal food, come up to villas and drink beer, Coca-Cola, very bad. Dangerous!” He waggled a finger at Serena over her shoulder, and quite unnecessarily warned her, “Not to feed monkey!”

“No, quite,” she shuddered. “I no feed monkey. I mean, I won’t feed the monkeys.” Secretly she was rather excited to see the creature and hoped she might see some more from a safe distance, but the thought of them coming up to the villa she had meant to stay at and taking drinks from her table - ugh! Did monkeys like shiraz, she wondered? Just as well she was going somewhere else after all, perhaps.

After a while, the road ran out, and they were back to a dirt track, though not quite as untamed as the villa’s drive had been. Saloh slowed down a little, and now they were overtaken sporadically by scooters and motorbikes, with not a helmet to be seen. Without exception, the riders and passengers wore shorts and t-shirts, and Serena told herself firmly that she was on holiday and would _not_ be dealing with the inevitable cases of road rash that the island’s clinic must treat on a near daily basis. She winced at the frequent cases of sunburn that the riders sported - really, it was all too easy to identify the British abroad.

A sudden jolt announced the end of the track, and Saloh carefully took the jeep down on to a long, sandy beach at a fairly leisurely pace. As they made their way along the stretch of golden sand, they passed several scruffy little bars, built from bamboo and logs and every kind of upcycled material imaginable: there were oil drums fashioned into chairs; fishing floats turned into lamps, and from every sturdy branch of the trees along the shoreline hung hammocks and swings of every kind.each bar boasted at least one platform out on the beach, with canopies of the same grass or flax she had seen at the villas, though faded and greyed from the weather. Patrons lounged on brightly coloured mats and cushions at low tables, drinking coffee, fruit juice and beer.

It held its own sort of appeal, Serena supposed, and it was fascinating to see how the other half lived: these backpackers and drop outs and kids on their gap year. She couldn’t help but think smugly of the swimming pool and loungers that awaited her at her replacement accommodation; the air conditioned bedroom ad whirlpool tub, just as she had been expecting to enjoy at the villas. Mr Jeng had been so accommodating and understanding that she felt sure that he would have found her somewhere at least as luxurious as Koh Ngam Villas to make up for the disappointment and inconvenience she had been subject to.

Just as she was deciding what her first cocktail would be once she had settled in at the new resort, Saloh slowed the jeep, and came to a stop outside a particularly gaudy bar, with colourful scarves tied to branches, strings of shells and little fishing floats dangling fro the canopy of the large covered platform, and any number of crudely painted signs tacked to the surrounding trees. _Montpellier, 9,800 km_ , she read. _Wien, 8810 km. Ilha Grande, 13,764 km._

Saloh turned to her from the driver’s seat. “Wait, please, ma’am,” he said, and hopped down, leaving the engine running. A delivery, perhaps, she thought, or a message to pass on. She was taken aback when he appeared at the back of the jeep and picked up her suitcases, swinging them down and depositing them on the sand. He held his hand out to her as though to help her down, but she stared at him in stupefaction.

“Why have we stopped?” She asked, genuine confusion evident on her face. “I’m going to Koh Ngam Valley, not a shabby little shack on the beach!”

Saloh nodded and smiled. “Yes, yes - Koh Ngam Valley!” He said in confirmation, and he pointed at a sign on the side of the platform. Sure enough, in bright letters painted on what might once have been a road sign, “Koh Ngam Valley. Wilkomen, Bien Venue, Welcome!”

By the time she had made sense of it, Saloh had already lifted her cases onto the platform, and he was talking to a young woman who had come out from behind the bar at the sound of the approaching jeep. She saw hi gesture over towards her, where she still stood by the jeep, and pulling herself together, she stepped out of the sun into the welcome shade of the trees. She made her way over to the bar, and in her best Deputy CEO manner, said briskly, “Good afternoon. I’m afraid there’s been an administrative error. I’m looking for the Koh Ngam Valley _resort_ , not a bar. Could you give my driver directions, please?”

The young woman had looked blankly at her at the talk of administrative errors, but at the name of the resort, she brightened. “Yes, Koh Ngam Valley resort - welcome!” And she swept her arm round to direct Serena to a series of huts nestled in the trees behind them, up a small but steep slope. Each one perched on stilts, and a hammock was slung from post to post on every verandah. Like everything else in the place,they looked as though they had been constructed from random sources, if the mis-matched doors and windows were anything to go by. Saloh picked up her suitcases, and before she could object, he was halfway up the slop to the cabin the woman had indicated, picking his way over the bumpy ground with surprising nimbleness for a man weighed down with thirty kilos of Serena Campbell’s holiday wardrobe.

Serena pinched the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath, then another. “Would it be possible,” she asked in a tone that made it clear her patience was wearing _very_ thin, “to speak to the manager?”

The girl gave her the same blank look as before, and Serena said rather more briskly, “Mr Wolfe. I need to speak with Mr Wolfe at once, please.”

“Mr - ah, you mean Bernie! Bernie come soon,” she said with a relieved smile. And she waved at someone she had spotted over Serena’s shoulder, calling out, “Bernie? Bernie! New guest is here, wants to talk to you!” Serena turned to look for the man who she hoped would sort out this whole sorry mess once and for all. She laughed at herself as she remembered the godlike figure she had conjured up before, and prepared herself to meet the balding, middle aged, beer bellied sob that this place promised, but the day had not yet delivered its full complement of surprises.

Walking out of the clear blue sea was someone who so nearly matched her imagination: the long legs, the muscled torso, sea water dripping from a tangle of sun-bleached hair onto firm shoulders, running down to glisten on sculpted collarbones. The one thing her imagination had not prepared her for was the bikini.

Serena was aware that her mouth was agape - again - as the apparition (“Ursula Andress,” her mind supplied unhelpfully) waved at her.

“Hullo!” She cried as she emerged from the sea and strode across the sand. “Bernie Wolfe - you must be Serena Campbell!”


	3. Paradise Glimpsed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following the mix-up over her booking, Serena is determined to get back to the mainland to find a decent hotel. But there will be no ferries until later in the day: will a few hours at Bernie’s chilled out resort be long enough to make her change her mind?

Serena was so taken aback at the sight of this goddess emerging from the waves that she forgot entirely that she was supposed to be fuming about her situation. She took in the lean but perfectly womanly figure as Bernie approached her, shaking water from her hair like a dog and swiping a toned forearm across her face.

“Sorry - did I get you?” Bernie asked with a grin. “Don’t worry, you’ll dry off in a trice - it’s another lovely day in paradise, isn’t it?”

Serena shook her head slowly. “No, no, it’s ok - you didn’t get me wet. I, uh… hello. Yes, Serena Campbell.” She took the hand that Bernie offered and wasn’t surprised to find that Bernie’s handshake was firm and confident. Somehow the contact put her more at her ease, and in spite of herself she smiled at the other woman. “It really is a beautiful day, isn’t it? I can’t quite believe I’m here - I only got in to Bangkok late last night, and it’s been a bit of a whirl since then. It’s funny to think I was freezing my bits off in Holby only twenty four hours ago!”

“Holby, hey? Small world. Look, why don’t you have a seat and let Monica bring you a drink while I get dried off and make myself decent, then we can get you settled in.” 

Serena opened her mouth to explain that she had no intention of settling in to what seemed to amount to little more than a beach hut, but Bernie had already waved the young woman over and was striding off, presumably to her own accommodation to get changed. Serena made a helpless little gesture with her hands, then, supposing she would have to reconcile herself to waiting a little longer to sort this mess out, she sat at the bamboo table that Monica indicated with a smile, and sighed as she slumped into the comfortable chair.

“Hi - make yourself at home! What can I get for you?” Monica was a pleasant looking young woman around the same age as Elinor, Serena guessed, and from her accent, she thought perhaps Swedish or Norwegian. 

Serena looked at her watch and sighed. “I suppose it’s a bit early in the day for a stiffener, isn’t it - I’m a bit confused about time just now. Do you have any orange juice?” 

Monica shook her head apologetically. “Orange - not at the moment. I can do you watermelon, pineapple, papaya…” 

“Pineapple juice on the beach sounds rather good. Thank you.”

The juice took ever such a long time to arrive, and Serena had started to think she had been forgotten, but when Monica came back, she realised that it had been time well spent. The tall frozen glass the girl set before her was full of what looked more like a smoothie than juice, and when she took a first tentative sip, she realised it was a delightfully refreshing combination of freshly juiced pineapple and crushed ice. She took a longer draft and settled back into the chair, and for the first time she relaxed a little and had a really good look around her.

 

She took in the long, curving sweep of the bay, from a little fishing hut on a slight promontory to her right, round to an outcrop of jagged looking rocks perhaps a thousand yards to the left. The sea itself was something straight from a tourist brochure, aquamarine waves lapping against golden sands, deepening to a rich turquoise further out. Along the horizon she could see several richly wooded islands, and traditional longtail boats dotted the water as they carried passengers and cargo to and from the mainland.

Along the beach were a dozen or so bars, and she supposed that each of them belonged to a resort like Koh Ngam Valley, judging by the shadowy outlines of huts she could see as she peered through the trees and bushes. Koh Ngam Valley itself was a pretty humble affair, judging by the bar, with its high benches upholstered mostly with tarpaulin and gaffer tape. The platform out on the beach looked as much like a bandstand as anything, but was littered with wedge-shaped cushions and low tables, and a couple of guests were lounging with a tall drink and reading their books in the shade of the platform’s canopy.

She looked back up the slope, to where the huts were nestled behind the tree line, and cast an appraising eye over them. They actually looked rather idyllic in their own rustic way, with high peaked, steep sided roofs, and a hammock slung across the verandah of each hut. A rickety looking staircase led up to each verandah, the huts being built on sturdy stilts that raised them from the floor and allowed air to circulate beneath them. She wondered idly what they were like inside - it might be interesting to see how the backpackers managed before she went back to civilisation and a decent hotel on the mainland, she thought.

 

“Sorry about that.” She turned her head as Bernie came to join her, dressed more conservatively now in baggy shorts and a light linen shirt. Her hair was dry now, and it curled loosely around her face. She was the very picture of health, Serena thought approvingly and a little wistfully, well aware that she was displaying the fatigue not only of they previous twenty hours’ travel, but of the months of relentless work since she had last managed to take a good holiday. Perhaps by the end of this vacation she would look as fresh and vigorous as Bernie - though she doubted it.

“I meant to be ready to meet you, but I got a bit carried away swimming. It’s so lovely out there - you should make sure you have a dip before the tide goes out this evening. Now - are you ready to see your room, or would you like a bite to eat first?”

Serena looked longingly at the sea: it looked so inviting, but she was determined to get herself settled somewhere rather nicer than this before the end of the day, and she cleared her throat.

“Well, look - about the room. I’m afraid there’s been a bit of a mix up - I was expecting to stay at Koh Ngam Villas, but I'm afraid I got taken in by an online scam, and they couldn’t fit me in.”

“Yes,” Bernie said, “Jeng explained what had happened - rotten luck for you. But we’ve got plenty of room - I don’t advertise online, so we’ve actually got a few huts available at the moment. I like to see who just turns up - most of our guests come by word of mouth. Let’s go and have a look - you’ve got three to choose from.” She smiled broadly as she stood and gestured for Serena to follow her.

“Oh - no. I mean, I don’t want to seem rude or ungrateful, but this really isn’t quite what I had in mind. I don't know if you’ve been to the Villas, but I was really hoping for something rather more… luxurious than this. It’s lovely,” she added hastily, “Just - not what I was looking for. I think I’d better head back to the mainland and find a hotel - would it possible to arrange transport?A taxi back to the pier?”

Far from taking offence, Bernie smiled sympathetically. “We’re hardly in the same league as Jeng’s place, I know. We can sort out a taxi bike for you, but there won’t be any crossings until later this evening - Friday afternoon, you see - prayer time.”

As though to prove her point, the echo of a distant call to prayer drifted through the trees. “It’s mostly Muslim down here in the islands,” Bernie explained. “Buddhist in the north, Muslim in the south, to generalise somewhat. It’s all pretty laid back, but a Friday is a Friday. Why don’t you have lunch here if you haven’t eaten already, and a bit of time to explore the beach? You’re welcome to borrow one of the empty huts if you want to go for a dip, or just to freshen up.”

 

Serena wasn’t hungry, but she accepted the offer of the use of a hut gratefully, and Bernie picked up her heavy luggage with little apparent effort. She led the way to a cabin halfway up through the trees and put the cases down so she could offer a hand to Serena as she stepped gingerly on the slatted walkway bridging the gap between the path and the hut. She opened the door and let Serena go in first, following behind with the cases.

The room was clean, Serena noted, though decidedly shabby, with mismatched curtains and bedding - which depicted garish cartoon characters. She didn’t say anything, but Bernie noticed the tightening of her lips.

“It’s all a bit rough and ready - seems to suit most of our guests, though I do plan to upgrade things a bit this year. The mattresses are comfortable, that’s the main thing. Feel free to have a nap if you like - you must be wiped out with all the travelling. The bathroom’s through there.”

Bernie left her guest to her own devices, promising to call a taxi for later thatevening, and telling her to let Monica know if she wanted anything to eat.

“Make the most of our little island paradise while you’re here,” she said, smiling, and Serena watched as she made her way back down the path to the beach. Turning back to the room, she looked at the bed: it was very tempting despite the garish bedding, but she knew that it would be better to try and stick to local time from the start. And it seemed a shame not to have a paddle in the sea before heading back to civilisation, so she opened a suitcase to retrieve her bikini. She sighed in relief at getting out of her travelling clothes, which were a little stale by now. She would shower later, she thought, as she knotted her sarong securely. She would only need to shower agin if she braved the sea, even if it were only for a paddle.

 

Once she was on the beach, she couldn’t resist kicking her flip flops off and feeling the soft sand between her toes. It had a been such a long time since she had walked on sand like this, and for a moment she closed her eyes, listening to the gentle waves, the cheerful lilting calls of birds in the trees, and soaking up the warmth on her skin. The call of the waves became too tempting to resist, and she stepped tentatively into the shallows. The sea was wonderfully warm, and before long she had tucked her sarong up into her bikini bottoms and waded out further.

She looked around. There were a few people on the beach, and one or two swimmers out in the bay. Enough people to feel safe, but not so many that she felt overlooked, she thought, and she waded back to the beach, left her sarong on a rock and weighted it down with a pebble. She stepped back into the water, gliding further and further in until she was swimming - oh, how glorious! - swimming in the brightly jewelled Andaman Sea.

Keeping her hair out of the water as far as possible, she swam aimlessly, keeping close to the shore and revelling in the sensation of the warm water and the warmer sun. The beach looked lovely from out here, the ramshackle bars looking rather appealing. Holiday makers lay sprawled in hammocks, sitting on benches, mats or towels, and there was a tremendous sense of relaxation and peace. It almost seemed a shame to be leaving so soon.

The sun was still high, and Serena began to worry about the effectiveness of her sunscreen in the water, so with some reluctance she made her way back to the rock where she had stashed her sarong. Wrapping it around herself again, she strolled back to the cabin Bernie had kindly let her use, where she discovered that there was no hot water. The cold shower wasn't exactly unpleasant in this heat and humidity, but she was glad to think of the luxury that awaited her on the mainland

 

With another hour or so to kill before there was any likelihood of a taxi to the pier, Serena put on a sun dress more appropriate to the surroundings than her travelling clothes and picked up her book. She found a seat in partial shade down at the tree line, and was settling down to lose herself in a chapter when Bernie’s voice interrupted her reading.

“I normally bring guests an iced lemongrass tea as a welcome, but I thought you might prefer something a little more robust.”

On a tray in her hand was a glass clinking with ice cubes, a little bottle of tonic and a bowl of nuts.

“There’s rum or whiskey if you prefer, but you look like a gin drinker to me. I haven’t poured the tonic - don’t know how strong you like it.”

Serena put her book down and smiled up at Bernie, taking the glass gratefully. “I’m a fine wines kind of a girl, to tell the truth, but I’m certainly not going to turn down a G&T in this weather! Thank you, that’s very kind. Care to join me?” She poured little more than a splash of tonic int the glass and took a sip.

“Golly, that’s good! Go on, go and pour one for yourself - shame to waste the rest of this tonic!”

She winked at Bernie who laughed, and who evidently needed little persuasion to oblige. Bernie returned with a glass of her own, as well as a bucket of ice and the gin bottle. They sat in the afternoon sun and chatted easily about nothing in particular. Serena learned that the resort - the whole island, in fact - tended to attract more Scandinavian, Dutch and German tourists than British, and most of the guests on the beach were fairly young: backpackers, young families. Serena was Bernie’s only British guest, and Bernie admitted that it was nice to have the company.

“I muddle along in most of the languages we get here, and fortunately they tend to speak pretty good English, so communication’s rarely a problem - but it’s nice to have someone who’s a native speaker, and someone my own age. It’s wonderful being surrounded by young people - but it’s nice to spend time with a contemporary now and then, isn’t it?”

“I’ll drink to that,” Serena said, matching the deed to the word, and Bernie reached over to refill her glass.

“Listen, I was thinking. You haven’t got anywhere booked for this evening, have you? Only by the time you get the ferry and get into town, it will be getting on a bit, and you’d still have a hotel to find. Why don’t you stay here tonight and I’ll take you over in the morning - I have to go into Krabi for supplies anyway. What do you say?” 

Serena hesitated. She’d so been looking forward to checking into her luxury accommodation; taking a dip in her own private pool, sipping a cocktail on the terrace, sinking into fine white sheets. Koh Ngam Valley was a long way from all of that. But the sound of the waves was so soothing; the soft breeze so refreshing, and thanks to her swim and the generous measures that Bernie had been pouring, she was considerably more relaxed than she had been earlier in the day.

“Alright - why not?” she said stoutly. “It will be a little adventure before my holiday proper - thank you.”

Bernie’s smile was so genuine that it was infectious, and the two women shared a moment of oddly intense happiness in the moment.

“Good - that’s that settled. I’m so glad,” Bernie said. “Would you like to join me for dinner later? The food’s amazing if I say so myself - not that I cook it. Our chef is actually one of Saloh’s cousins - the chap that drove you down here from the Villas? Tourism’s a family business here.”

 

Serena gladly accepted the offer of a dinner date, and Bernie left her to enjoy the peace and quiet of the afternoon. She settled down with her book for a long while, but as late afternoon shifted into early evening, she found her eyes straying to the beach and to the sea beyond. The sky was starting to soften now, and a hint of pale gold blossomed quite suddenly into the most extraordinary sunset she had ever seen. Her breath caught in her throat at the beauty of it, and within what seemed like moments, she was in a world of sharp silhouettes against a sky so gorgeously painted she could hardly believe her eyes.

“It’s quite something, isn’t it?” Bernie was beside her again, her approach unnoticed. Her voice was soft and wistful, and Serena glanced round to see her looking out to sea, her face glowing in the reflected light. What a very striking woman she was, with those deep soulful eyes, and that glorious blonde hair, Serena thought.

“It really is,” she replied. “Is it like this every evening?”

“No - I mean, yes, it is, but different every time. Sometimes it’s like a deep purple bruise; other nights it’s a soft golden haze like a summer morning in England. You never quite know what you're going to get. We’ve got the full works tonight, though.”

They watched the changing colours for a little longer, then shaking herself, Bernie turned to Serena.

“I came to see if you fancied dinner yet - I brought you a menu.”

Serena allowed herself to be guided through the extensive menu by Bernie, and ended up ordering tom yum soup with prawns, which Bernie assured her would not be too spicy. When Serena suggested a good robust shiraz to accompany it, though, Bernie’s laugh echoed down the beach.

“Sorry - sorry,” she chuckled. “Don't look like that - I’m not laughing at you. Well, I am a little bit. I wouldn’t recommend the wine here, to be honest. The locals drink a fairly nasty red wine cooler, horribly sweet, and there’s a pretty rough red available, but I’d stick to beer or spirits if I were you. How about a mango shake with rum?”

Serena, initially affronted by her reaction, was modified by the tall glass of mango smoothie that arrived a few minutes later. “Goodness, you’d never guess there was rum in this - potentially lethal!” But it was very good indeed, and she struggled not to knock it back too quickly.

The food, when it came, was aromatic without being too spicy, and so fresh and simple that Serena thought she might never want to eat anything other than Thai food again. The soup was delicious, and she shared Bernie’s curry, exclaiming with delight over every mouthful. The conversation flowed easily, and Serena tried valiantly to disguise her tiredness, but eventually the long day took its toll, and a great yawn escaped despite her best efforts to hide it.

“I must let you get to bed - sorry to have kept you up so late. Thank you for keeping me company, Serena, it’s been a real pleasure. I’ll walk you to your hut, shall I?”

Serena waved her off, apologising for her tiredness. “It’s been a lovely evening, thank you. And thank you for taking in a weary traveller at such short notice - you were right, it wouldn’t have been much fun trying to find somewhere else today. Don’t worry about walking me back - I'm pretty sure I can find my way! Now, what do I owe you?”

“Oh, we’ll settle up in the morning before we head off to Krabi. I hope you sleep well tonight - you must be exhausted. I’ll give you a knock in the morning if you’re not up already - we’ll head off around ten if that’s okay?”

Serena smiled sleepily. “Perfect. Thanks again Bernie - good night.”

 

She picked her way through the trees to her hut and dug out her pyjamas. After a quick visit to the bathroom she fell into bed - Bernie had been right, the mattress was very comfortable - and pulled the mosquito net closed around the bed. She lay for a moment in the dark, the sound of the waves blending with the soft rustle of leaves and the occasional muttering of some nocturnal bird. 

As she fell asleep, she found herself half wishing she was staying longer.

 

 

 


	4. Paradise Rejected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serena has a rude awakening - but it takes Bernie to point out _just_ how rude it has been. She sees a little of how the locals live, and hitches a ride to the mainland.

Serena didn’t know, at first, what had woken her. She didn’t know anything much at all, truth be told: the previous day’s travelling and disrupted sleep had left her exhausted, and she woke now slowly, though a fog of jet lag and confusion.  
The first thing she became aware of was a scrabbling, clattering something above her head, but all she could see was the diaphanous drape of the mosquito net in the dim grey light that seeped through the shutters. As she drifted upwards through the early stages of consciousness, she was suddenly pulled sharply to the surface by a wild shriek and a loud thud. She sat bolt upright in bed, her heart thudding and her eyes wide. It sounded as though someone was being murdered on the roof of her cabin, and she clutched the sheet close to her. There was a second scream, and all at once, she understood.  
There were monkeys on the roof, and from the sounds of it, they were fighting to the death. She untucked the mosquito net aside and swung her legs down, and reaching for the window pole, she raised it above her head and rapped sharply on the ceiling. Almost at once, hostilities ceased, and she heard more scrabbling, then the sound of that unearthly shrieking receding through the trees as they took their fight elsewhere. As her heart rate slowly returned to normal, she caught sight of herself in the mirror, the pole held aloft, and she suddenly remembered the dingy flat she had shared in medical school, where they had taken it in turns to bang on the ceiling with a broom to silence their noisy neighbours. She laughed at the incongruity of the memory, suddenly surfacing all these years later in such a very different setting.  
She went to the bathroom, and looking at her watch, she saw that it was still early. The sheets might be hideously mismatched, but the mattress was as comfortable as Bernie had promised, and she sank gratefully back into bed.

By the time she woke again the sun was up in earnest, and sharp fingers of sunlight stretched through the shutters with a promise of a glorious day to come. She had slept soundly for several more hours and was feeling considerably more human. If the monkeys had returned, she hadn’t heard them, and she felt refreshed and relaxed. The shower was still cold, but it was a welcome relief from the humidity of the night, and by the time Serena made it out of the cabin, she felt more than ready for the day.

Bernie was down at the restaurant area, sitting cross-legged on one of the brightly coloured cushions at a low table in the shade. She looked up at Serena and smiled.  
“Good morning! I hope you slept well?”

Serena moved into the shade, the morning’s sun hot already, and laughed shortly. “Well, yes and no. I slept like a log - until the monkeys woke me up. I think I had some fighting on my roof.”

Bernie gave her a knowing look and a sly smile. “Fighting?”

Serena looked blankly at her for a second, then, understanding, laughed afresh. “Oh, is that what it was? Well, it didn’t sound as though she was having much fun, I’m afraid. Poor old thing. But apart from that little interruption I slept really well, thank you. I feel like a new woman!”

“Glad to hear it. Listen, I’m planning to head off to the mainland by about ten this morning - can you be ready to leave by then?”

Serena could. She hadn’t even unpacked last night beyond retrieving her pyjamas and wash bag - and she didn’t know why she’d even bothered with the pyjamas, which she had rapidly discarded as soon as she got into bed. Accordingly, she had plenty of time for breakfast, and Monica brought her a plate of pancakes with fresh fruit and a glass of fresh mango juice. The obliging young woman gave her a hand bringing her luggage down from the cabin, and Serena took one last look round the room before she left. It had been a nice little adventure in its own way, and she had mellowed considerably in her attitude towards slumming it. Luxury called, however, and she shut the door behind her.

She was finishing her coffee and deep in her book when Bernie pulled up on a taxi bike, ready to take them to the ferry port. She lifted Serena’s luggage onto the frame and offered a hand to her as she climbed aboard.  
The previous day, Saloh had told about the rubber plantations and the monkeys, but Bernie’s conversation was all about her neighbourhood and its inhabitants.

“Oh, look - Mrs Peng’s cow has got loose again. Remind me to give her a call when we get to the ferry, would you? I keep offering to mend the fence for her - I think I’d better just do it by stealth. That’s the school there - look, they’re practising for their concert - they’ve got an excellent traditional dance teacher, it’s a shame you’ll miss it.”

She slowed the bike and stopped to have a quick conversation with a young man who showed her something on his arm. Bernie bent over to look, and Serena thanked her lucky stars that no-one here knew she was a doctor. She zoned out a little, and just caught the end of the conversation as Bernie revved up the bike again. “The clinic will be open tomorrow, just keep it clean and dry until then - it doesn’t look too bad, but see how it looks in the morning.”

Bernie was clearly a welcome member of the local community, and she waved and shouted greetings to any number of people on the way over to the port. They arrived in good time, and once Serena had offloaded her bags, Bernie tossed the keys to a young woman with a friendly greeting in Thai. The girl nodded and manoeuvred the cumbersome bike round in an impossibly tight circle before driving up the road. 

They were at a different port to the one Serena had arrived at the previous day: a much humbler affair. Half a dozen long tailed boats were moored along the pier in stark contrast to the relatively luxurious passenger ferry which had brough her across to the island. For the most part, these boats were owned by fishermen, but the longtail chugging towards them was laden not with nets and buoys, but with everything from scooters to prams, from cases of beer to rattan furniture, piled precariously on the deck.

It took a little while for the passengers and their assorted cargo to disembark, and Serena watched in horrified fascination as unfeasibly large loads were strapped to the backs of the little motor scooters that served as almost the only traffic on Koh Ngam. She stared incredulously at the young woman - girl, really - who tottered off on a scooter which was almost entirely obscured by the cane furniture lashed to its frame. Bernie threw an amused glance at Serena’s shocked expression.

“You don’t see that on a Wednesday morning in Holby, eh?”

Eventually the ferry hand waved them on board, Serena watching fretfully as Bernie stowed her luggage neatly on the open deck. There was nowhere else for it go, though: there was no hold, and she could see the hull through the gaps between the planks. She resolved not to worry about it, and made for the canopied platform with its comfortable looking cushions, but a woman sitting in the dark space beneath it grabbed at her flowing top and said something she could not understand. She knew what the expression on her face and the furious gesturing meant though, and she turned a glare towards Bernie.

“Seriously? The men get the view and the women have to sit don here underneath them? Well, I don’t think so!” And she put a foot firmly on the ladder, but Bernie laid a restraining hand on her arm.

“It’s local tradition, and we all abide by it - we’re guests here. Besides,” she said conspiratorially, “it’s actually much more comfortable to be out of the sun. And when things get a bit choppy, it’s the chaps up top that get the worst of it - you’re much less likely to get seasick down nearer the water level. Look - sit here, you get a better view on this side.”  
Serena allowed Bernie to smooth her ruffled feathers, and managed a placatory smile at the woman who had alerted her to her _faux pas_.

Just as on the way to the pier, Bernie kept up a light running commentary of their passage to the mainland, pointing out birds, fish and the other islands, with their waving stands of palm trees, or mangroves blending the land into the water.

“What are you most looking forward to when you find a hotel?” Bernie asked, eager to make the most of the opportunity to chat with Serena.

“Oh, lots of things!” Serena confided. “I’m hoping to find somewhere with a private pool, like I was expecting at the Villa. And - no offence - but a fully flushing toilet where I don't have to put the loo roll in the bin instead of flushing it away.” She made a little grimace at what had seemed a necessary evil at the backpackers, but Bernie shook her head.  
“Sorry to disabuse you, but that’s the same everywhere here. The sewerage system just isn’t designed to cope with it, so you’ll find a bin in every loo, no matter how posh. And the spray hose as well, that’s standard - I suppose it’s the equivalent of a bidet. The Australians call it the bum gun,” she laughed. “It’s not a bad thing to keep clean and fresh in the humidity we get here, to be honest.”

Serena looked at her sideways, suspecting she was being wound up, but she could see that Bernie wasn’t joking. “I thought that was for the cleaner,” she admitted. “I suppose it makes sense. Oh, the toilet roll thing is a bit grim, isn’t it? Especially in this heat. Oh well - when in Rome, I suppose,” she grumbled.

“So - a private pool and a more civilised toilet. What other upgrades could I make to raise my rating, do you think?” Now she was teasing her, Serena knew, but she played along.

“Well, crisp white sheets for a start - I’m a bit long in the tooth to feel truly comfortable under a _My Little Pony_ bedspread -” she winked to take any sting out of her criticism “- and maybe some nice toiletries. Oh, and towels folded into swans or something, that’s very five star, you know. Rose petals strewn on the pillows, and a bottle champagne waiting on ice…”  
Bernie had been pretending to take notes, but she gave up in fits of laughter at this.  
“Orchid petals I could do you, perhaps - and a bottle of Thai whiskey, though I wouldn’t recommend it unless you’ve got a sink that needs unblocking. Well, I’ll see what I can do - though who needs a private pool when you can step out of bed straight into the Andaman Ocean? That’s _my_ private pool.”  
Serena smiled warmly at her, but inside she suddenly felt shallow and frivolous, seeing Bernie’s utter contentment at such a simple pleasure.

Bernie carried Serena's luggage off the ferry when they arrived at Krabi, and walked her over to a taxi rank. Serena was taken aback when they walked straight past the air conditioned taxis, and Bernie started putting the suitcases into an open backed truck with a tarpaulin stretched over the roll cage, providing some shade for the padded benches that ran along each side.

“Hope you don’t mind slumming it with us locals one last time,” Bernie joked. “The taxis are comfortable, but the songthaews are so much cheaper - and you really have to travel by one at least once while you’re here.”  
“Oh, I wouldn’t call this slumming it!” Serena said, though privately she thought it was exactly that, and she tried not to think about seatbelts, or the copious quantities of gravel she had picked out of wounds in her time.

The songthaew waited until a few more more passengers had joined them, and set off up the highway to Krabi. The combined noise of the engine and the traffic sounds from the open sides made conversation less easy, and they travelled in companionable silence for the most part, broken only when another passenger offered round a bag of crisp banana fritters. Dubious at first, Serena accepted when she saw Bernie tuck in with relish, and she thanked her fellow passenger, smiling and making a little bow as she had seen Bernie do.  
Half an hour or so later, they pulled up at the bus station in Krabi, and Bernie handed Serena down from the back of the songthaew.

“There you go - time for the next part of your adventure,” she said. “Buses for Bangkok usually leave from over there - you can get a ticket from one of the little stalls down the middle.” She hesitated for a moment, then said “Well, it was nice to meet you - I'm sorry you didn’t get your dream holiday. Personally, I think it’s a little piece of paradise but I’m easily pleased. I’m heading off into town now, so I’ll say goodbye. Good luck with your travels, Serena - I hope you find your own vision of paradise.”  
Serena thanked her awkwardly, not quite knowing how to convey her gratitude for all the kindness Bernie had extended. 

Bernie looked at her for a moment, then gave her a friendly grin, jumped back up into the songthaew and waved goodbye as it pulled off towards the town centre.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serena is all set to head back to Bangkok, but thinks better of it at the last moment. She has cause to rethink her idea of paradise, but it seems that Bernie is prepared to meet her half way.

Bernie settled back against the padded backrest ready for the remaining journey into town. She couldn’t deny that she was disappointed. She had warmed to Serena, despite her initial prickliness about the ramshackle nature of Koh Ngam Valley, which Bernie saw as part of its charm. She had found Serena easy to talk to, not just because they shared a first language, and she had been looking forward to spending some time with her over the Christmas period. Her Scandinavian guests were always friendly enough, but they celebrated riotously on Christmas Eve, and Christmas Day itself always fell a bit flat for her.

 

 _Ah well_ , she thought - it just wasn’t meant to be. Serena would celebrate Christmas in a swanky hotel that catered for her richer tastes, and Bernie would spend the day on the beach as usual. She laughed shortly at herself - fancy feeling sad about saying goodbye to someone she barely knew - how silly. However, moments later, she heard her name being called, and she looked round to see Serena waving frantically. She leaned forward to tap the driver on the shoulder and explain in her broken Thai.

“Sorry - I think my friend forgot something. Can we go back?”

 

He nodded wordlessly and, rather than turning round, reversed at a speed alarming to anyone who wasn’t used to this mode of transport. He slammed the brakes on, and Bernie hopped down where Serena stood, one hand worrying at her necklace, the other still raised where she had been waving to get their attention.

 

“Are you alright? Do you need help buying a ticket? Sorry, I should have thought.” Bernie chastised herself, but Serena shook her head.

“No, it’s not that. I just - well, I was just thinking… Perhaps I’ve been a bit silly about the whole luxury thing. I might find a nice hotel, but it won’t be anywhere as lovely as your beach, will it? I don’t see how it could be! Would you mind very much if I came back and stayed at your place for the rest of my holiday? You said you had the room available…”

It was clear that Serena was feeling awkward and a little foolish about her _volte face_ , and Bernie was nothing but kind as she replied with a wide and friendly smile.

“Of course! Oh, I’m so glad you’re staying - you’re going to have a wonderful relaxing time, I promise you. Come on, let’s get these cases back on board. Do you mind spending the morning in Krabi today? Then we can go back together this afternoon and get you settled in properly.”

Set at ease by Bernie’s open-heartedness, Serena passed up her cases back into the songthaew, and smiled a little shyly as Bernie helped her up again.

 

Once in Krabi itself, they spent a pleasant half hour walking along the river, and Serena marvelled at the huge karst rock formations in the middle distance.

“They look like something from a film,” she said, “Really spectacular.” And they were, looming over the mouth of the river like stern sentinels. “I thought Krabi was just a transit hub,” she continued, “but it’s really a lovely little place on its own merits, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Bernie said. “I like living on the island, and I love my own personal little bit of paradise, but it’s nice to come over here once in a while for the buzz of the place, and you tend to get a wider range of cultural things - concerts, art exhibitions and so on. And it’s much better for shopping - which is why I’m going to leave you to your own devices for a bit while I run a few errands.”

She showed Serena her own favourite coffee shop, which also served very good food, and Serena settled down with her book. They had left her luggage with a friend of Bernie’s near where the songthaew had dropped them off, and all she had to look after was her handbag and her sunhat. Reading was something she was rediscovering already this holiday, and the sheer luxury of being able to read uninterrupted was as much a novelty as the new environment was.Bernie found her there a few hours later.

 

“You surely haven’t been reading here all this time?”

Serena looked up from her book, startled by the interruption.

“Oh, it hasn’t been long - what, an hour or so?”

Bernie laughed. “More like four. Must be a good book.”

Serena flipped though the pages with dismay. “I thought this would last me all holiday, but I’ve nearly finished it already! Hope you’ve got a book swap back at your place?”

Bernie made a face. “I have, but it’s pretty much all in German or Swedish, I’m afraid. And I think you’ll find the same in the bookshops here. Have you got a Kindle?”

Serena shook her head. “No - I so rarely have time to read that it didn’t seem worth it. I should have thought of it for this holiday, but it was all rather last minute. Oh, well - I’ll have to read this one again, I suppose!”

“I’ve got a few things at home you can borrow if you like - and you can try my Kindle, see if you get on with it. And I can always download a book or two if there's anything you particularly fancy reading - just let me know. Listen, I need to head back in an hour or so - did you want to explore Krabi a bit, or sit and finish your book?”

 

Serena decided to save the last few chapters of her book for later, and Bernie gave her a relaxed little tour of the town. It was lively and had a pleasant buzz to it without being overly touristy, and they found themselves chatting easily as they walked. Further along the river there were public art installations, and Serena delighted in the wit and inventiveness of them. They strolled slowly, pointing the odd sculptures and artworks to each other, laughing gleefully at some of the more suggestive pieces. By the time they made their way back to the pick up point, she felt as though she had known Bernie for much longer than twenty four hours. She couldn’t remember when she had last felt so at ease in someone else’s company. It was one thing having friends like Raf and Fletch at work, but to meet someone outside of that hothouse environment and find such an easy rapport - well, it was a very welcome novelty.

 

They retrieved Serena’s luggage, and a number of bags that Bernie had collected on her errands, and a songthaew saw them back at the pier a little while later. The longtail pilot gave Bernie the side eye at loading up the same luggage he had freighted across that morning, but said nothing, and Bernie winked silently at him. Serena made straight for the lower desk without hesitation. She scooted along the seat and patted the bench next to her in invitation, and smiled when Bernie joined her. She felt so much more relaxed than she had on the way over, her anxiety about finding the perfect place dissolved in the knowledge that she was going back to the beautiful beach where she had swum the day before. She hoped there would be another gorgeous sunset this evening, and wondered if Bernie had been telling the truth about each night being different.

 

When they got back to Koh Ngam Valley, Bernie handed over her various parcels and packages to Monica, and asked her to prepare Serena’s hut for her.

“I’ll take your bags up when she’s done - fancy a drink while you wait?”

Serena opted for the mango smoothie with rum, and following suit, Bernie mixed up the same for herself but with pineapple in place of the mango.

“I love pineapple,” she confessed. “Fresh, juiced, smoothie, dried, on pizza…” Serena recoiled in mock horror.

“Philistine!”

Bernie grinned and pushed her glass towards Serena. “Try this,” she said. “There’s a bit of Thai basil in there as well - it’s good!”

It really was, as unlikely as it sounded, and there was a playful little tussle over swapping the drinks back over.

“Tell you what - you finish it. I just saw Monica coming back down the hill, so I’ll take your cases up there ready for you.”

 

By the time Serena had finished her drink, she could see Bernie waving from the porch of her cabin, and she followed her up the track. Bernie opened the door for her and stood back to let her in, and Serena gave a little _oh!_ of delight. It was apparent now what had been in all those bags and parcels: gone were the gaudy bedspreads, and the bed had been made up with a set of soft white linens, and a new, bright white mosquito net hung draped above it. Every surface gleamed with polish, and the clean citrus scent of it lingered in the spotless room. A fluffy white towel was twisted and folded into the swan Serena had jokingly requested, and there was a spray of flowers on the pillow. On the little table by the bed was a stack of books and what Serena presumed was Bernie’s Kindle. Bernie had made it as close to Serena’s paradise as she could.

 

“Bernie! This is so lovely - thank you! Oh, what a transformation!”

“Well, you were right - we’re well overdue a bit of smartening up. I’m going to start upgrading the cabins one by one, and I thought it was only fair to start with yours. Why don’t you unpack and make yourself at home, then I wondered if you’d like to join me for dinner again? Obviously if you’d prefer your own company I’ll quite understand.”

Serena was only too happy to accept the offer. She unpacked her cases as quickly as she could, and took a few minutes to freshen up. She saw that a new pedal bin had been provided in the bathroom to make even that aspect of her stay a little more comfortable, and when she made her way back down to the beach, there was one more surprise waiting for her. Bernie had managed to find rather a nice looking bottle of shiraz in Krabi, but but to even her own surprise, Serena opted to share a bottle of Chang beer with their meal instead.

 

“Let’s save the wine for later in the week. Maybe for Christmas Day?” she suggested with a little trepidation. “Though I expect you already have plans.”

“Well, not plans, exactly - it’s usually quite a chilled out sort of day. But I'm sure we’ll make time to enjoy the wine together.” Bernie smiled warmly, and that same warmth settled in Serena’s chest.

 

The meal was every bit as delicious as last night’s, and Serena enjoyed the novelty of the light crisp beer - and the clear head she retained. The evening passed in a pleasant combination of chat and companionable silence as they ate. Serena gazed happily out across the bay, where the sun was sinking into a swathe of gold, purple and pale green mists. But she found that she was still tired from the difference in time zones, as well as the two ferry trips that day, and she reluctantly made her apologies when Bernie suggested another drink. She was anxious to make it clear that her early night wasn’t a snub, though.

 

“I’ve so enjoyed your company today Bernie - thank you for putting up with my silliness. I suppose I just had it in my head that luxury was the same thing as enjoyment, but I’ve had such a lovely time today. And you didn't need to go to all that trouble to upgrade my room - but it was very sweet of you, and I’m not rejecting it by any means. Thank you.”

Serena surprised her by throwing her arms around her and giving her a quick squeeze to show her appreciation, and quite involuntarily, Bernie’s arms came up to reciprocate briefly before Serena pulled away.

“Goodnight Bernie. I’ll see you in the morning.”

 

Serena ambled contentedly up the track to her newly luxurious cabin, quite unaware of the thoughtful gaze that followed her.


End file.
